Navigation
by Lel Vagor
Summary: Life has many different directions. Sometimes we just need a little navigation to find out what our certin direction is...*Hopefully not a MS...no promises!*
1. Navigating

"Would…you…kindly…let…me…through?!" I struggled through the thick crowd, no different from any other Monday morning at my "wonderful" high school. I was getting no where. Every time I thought I'd found a way out of the huddled mass, I was blocked by yet **another** person. Finally I yelled as loud as I could, "LET…ME…THROUGH!"

Miraculously, the crowd separated. When I reached my locker, I was met by my friend Jenni who was just reaching her own locker. "Nice tactic," she commented, grinning as she opened her locker. 

"Thanks, I thought so," I replied, grinning back.

"So did you hear what happened between Miranda and Jeff?" That was Jenni…always up on the gossip of the weekend.

I rolled my eyes. "Jenni, I could truly care less."

Jenni sighed. "You really need knew friends…did you spend all weekend hanging out with that…Bryan guy?"

I sighed and ignored her. Opening my locker, I sighed as a weekend's worth of unfinished homework came spilling out at me. "Good thing that I have a study hall today," I sighed, bending down to pick up the papers and book that had been spread out along the floor.

Jenni stared at me. "OK, who are you, and what have you done with my best friend?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Um, I'm talking about the fact that you don't have your homework done. That is so unlike you!"

I shrugged. "Everyone's allowed to have a non-homework filled weekend every once in awhile, right?"

Jenni fixed me with her super-ultra-yeah-right look. "Not you. I remember you once saying that your mother should have been named 'Homework Queen.' So why is it that you don't have your homework done?"

I ignored her, preferring to search through my locker for my English book. "Ugh, where is that damn book? Can I borrow yours for class today?"

Jenni pulled her book out of her locker, and was about to hand it to me when she stopped. "No."

"No? Why not?"

"Not until you tell me what's going on."

"Nothing is going on! Why does everyone think that something is going on? Can't I have one weekend where I don't do my homework? It's not rocket science - I wanted one weekend to myself! GOD!"

Jenni took a step back. "Ok, seriously now. What - is - going - on?"

"JENNI!"

"ALEXIS!"

"WHAT?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. Just thought yelling back would be fun."

"You are such a moron sometimes." I shook my head, and then held out my hand. "Now give me the book."

Jenni looked at me like I had three heads. "No."

"Why not? What did I do now?"

"Nothing. And that's exactly it. You did nothing. You didn't do your homework, you haven't cleaned your locker in four months, you didn't answer the phone this weekend, and you won't tell me what's going on. So no, you can't have the book. Not until you tell me what's up."

"Nothing is 'up.' All I wanted was one weekend by myself…is that too much to ask?"

"In your case, yes. You never want 'one weekend by yourself.' So why now? Why this weekend?"

"Look, it's none of your business, so butt out. Are you going to give me that damn book or not?"

"It is to my business. You're my best friend. So spill it. Why this weekend?"

I sighed. "Look, if I tell you will you leave me alone about it?"

"Yes."

"Ok, fine. My dad is out of town this weekend, and my sister had another skating competition, and of course, my mother HAD to go with her, so I was stuck home alone, all weekend. I didn't feel like doing homework, and no one was there to make me because I'm just little-old-Alexis. Little-old-Alexis who no one cares about. So yeah, that's why I wanted one weekend and why it was 'this weekend.' Now give me the damn book so I can go to class."

Tears were welling up in my eyes, but I swore to myself that I wouldn't give into them. Not here, not now. I kept my gaze on the floor as I held my hand out for the book, willing myself not to look at Jenni. I felt her place the book in my hand, and then she said, "I'm sorry."

That was it. The dam broke, and the tears came flowing down my cheeks, unchecked. "S'not your fault. Don't be sorry."

"But I am sorry."

"Well, don't be. If anyone wants to be sorry it should be them. But they'll never be sorry, never, because I am the forgotten, unwanted child. That's me. Hidden in my sister's shadow, never to be found."

"Don't say that."

"Don't say what? The truth? God, what do you want me to say?!" I stopped looking at the floor and turned my gaze to Jenni. "Do you want me to say that my life is perfect? That I live in the best house, that my parents are wonderful, that I never wish for anything else?" The tears came faster now, rolling down my face like two little rivers. "Dream on, Jenni. Not everyone has a perfect life!"

"I never said they did!" Tears were coming to Jenni's eyes now. "And I never said that I didn't want you to tell the truth. What I don't want you to do, to say, and to think is that you are worthless. In your words, that you are the 'forgotten, unwanted child.' Because you aren't, Alexis, you aren't! Look at me, look at our school. Alexis, you are the freshman class president. You didn't get there by being unwanted and forgotten. If you were unwanted and forgotten, you wouldn't be my best friend! Stop degrading yourself!"

We were both sobbing at this point. "Do you mean that, really mean that?" I asked.

"Yes!" she cried. "You should know me well enough by now to know that I only say what I feel is the truth!"

I reached for her and pulled her into a gigantic hug. "You are my best friend in the entire world," I said.

"I know," Jenni replied. "And I will always be there to help you navigate yourself through the crowded hallways of life - whether we use your tactics or mine."

I grinned. We separated, and I added the English book that I'd been holding to my backpack. "How about you start now, and we navigate ourselves to homeroom?"

Jenni grinned back. "Ok then." We linked arms, and walked down the hall way together. Jenni asked, "Are you sure that you don't want to hear about Jeff and Miranda?" 

I sighed. "Will you shut up and about it and go on navigating?"

"Yes."

"Fine then…spill." As I listened to her ramble on about the "fight" Jeff and Miranda had apparently had, I couldn't help but wonder if this time would be different.


	2. Believing

Well, weeks went by and nothing really changed. My family continued to be an aloof part of my life, and although Jenni tried to live up to her promise, nothing came of it. It was the same as always - she'd make a promise, I'd agree to it, and two or three weeks later nothing changes.

Not that it's Jenni's fault, per say. It's just a part of our lives. We have different senses of right and wrong - not like we can change it or anything. Jenni is a "Prep" - she has to hang out with the right people at the right time, wearing the right thing, at the right place, or her whole life is "ruined." And above everything else, she believes that she and her "normal" friends are above everyone else.

I, on the other hand, am an "Other Child." My "normal" friends and I believe that you can hang out with whom you want, where you want, when you want, and wearing what you want. The only restriction we place on ourselves is that we have to be true to our "inner being."

It's surprising to me that Jenni and I have remained friends for so long. Maybe it comes with the fact that our mothers were best friends in high school and never lost touch. Maybe it comes with the fact that we've been neighbors for our whole lives. I'm not really sure - maybe I'll never know.

Anyway, nothing much had changed. My father continued on with his frequent business trips - meaning every other day he was in a new city. I swore that he traveled just to get away from us - mainly me, that is. You see, he and my mother never got along really well and were on the verge of breaking it off when fate intervened. They did "it" - you know what I'm talking about - the night they were supposed to be breaking up. A month later, I was on the way, and the rest, as they say, is history.

So he was off on his road trips across country, and my mother and my "darling" younger sister were continually at the ice arena. Anna decided that figure skating was the sport for her - excuse me while I puke - and my mother got right on the bandwagon. Anna skated for three nights every week, and then every Saturday and Sunday morning. This meant that I was basically left to my own devices.

I spent most of that time in the library at school. I am an adventitious reader and the librarian and I had become well aquatinted. In fact, it was she who suggested that I consider joining Varsity Forensics. That was what caused this whole thing. 

"This whole thing" is referring to the fact that I am stuck here, here being Middle Earth. No, I'm not crazy - in fact, it might be easier to explain if I was. But I'm not, and to find out what I'm talking about, you're going to have to have an open mind. I know it sounds far-fetched. Hell, even I don't believe that I'm actually here half the time. But I am, and my tale is as real as they come…

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Well, this is a crazy turn of events. I meant for this to be a one-short original type piece, but my muse has a life of it's own, I guess. A major thanks to my beta, Tara. Read and review - I'm always open to constructive criticism!


	3. Crash and Burn

It was a normal Tuesday afternoon - normal for the hectic life of a teenage Forensics leader, that is. When I say "Forensics" I'm not referring to the science of forensics, as in dead bodies. I'm referring to high school Forensics - also known to the public as the League of Debaters, or Speech and Debate. Wonderful club, I must say, especially for those people who are like me - they have no life, don't really want one, and don't plan on getting one any time soon.

I was hanging out in the main meeting room when I caught sight of the clock. It read 4:45. A strange look must have passed over my face, because one of my fellow members, Bryan, asked me what was wrong. I pointed to the clock.

"Oh…shit." Bryan shuddered when he saw the time. "And your car's in the shop, isn't it?" I nodded. "Damn. You want a ride home? I could leave early…Matt will take over."

Matt came up behind Bryan and asked, "I'll take over what?" I simply pointed to the clock again. "Oh, shit. Yeah, I'll take over the meeting…you gonna take Alex home, Bry?"

I snapped my fingers in front of their faces and shook my head "no." Bryan gaped at me. "Why the hell not? Alexis, your mom is going to have your head!"

I just shook my head again, and slung my backpack over my shoulder. I heard Matt and Bryan protesting as I walked out of the meeting room, but I ignored them. No reason for Mother to yell at them because I wasn't watching what time it was.

As soon as I walked outside, a beeping sound caught my attention. There was a red Chevy idling in the circle in front of the high school where we hold our meetings. My mother was sitting there, tight lipped and not looking at all pleased. Sighing, I walked to the car and got it, throwing my backpack in the back seat.

As soon as I'd settled in the front seat, my mother started reading me the riot act. "Why are you here so late? Anna had a dance tonight at five that I had to cancel to come down here and get _you_. What was so important that you had to neglect your chores? Young lady, do you hear me? I'm asking you a question, and I expect an answer. What was so important that you had to neglect your chores to stay at school until -" she checked the clock - "4:50 in the afternoon?"

There are some things that parents just miss when they don't pay attention. For example, my mother and father missed the fact that:

I joined Varsity Forensics and have been the president for two years now, and That I took a vow of silence in January in an effort to learn more about my classmates, friends, and self before I graduated in June. 

My mother continued on with her ramblings, and I looked out the window and concentrated on the music that was blaring out of the radio. "Landslide" by the Dixie Chicks was beginning, and my mind drifted off listening to the lyrics.

****

I took my love and I took it down 

I climbed a mountain and I turned around 

And I saw my reflection in the snow-covered hills 

Well the landslide brought me down 

I found myself thinking back to this morning, and how strangely frightening it was that the routine I followed was considered "normal" in my home. I got up every morning at 4 AM so that I could be downstairs making breakfast for my father at 4:30 AM. Then I went upstairs at 5 AM after my father had left - without a word of goodbye or thanks - so that I could get dressed, clean up my room and the bathroom, and be back downstairs at 6 AM so that I could make breakfast for my mother and sister. 

When they left, my sister for school and my mother for work - again, without a word of goodbye or thanks - I again went upstairs to clean up the messes that Anna and Mother had left. By the time that I had finished, it would be 7 AM and I would have to rush to school so that I could make it to homeroom on time.

****

Oh, mirror in the sky 

What is love? 

Can the child within my heart rise above 

Can I sail through the changing ocean tides? 

Can I handle the seasons of my life? 

No one seems to understand my life. I try, and I try to make them, but it just never works. My mother was still rambling, and the song continued playing. Suddenly the car was gathering speed. "Damn brakes," my mother said as she pressed on the continuously, trying to get the car to stop. "They never seem to work." 

The car never slowed. My mother began pressing harder now, panic beginning to show on her face. I grabbed the handle of the car door when I saw a fresh patch of ice up ahead. As we hit the ice, a parked car appeared ahead of us. My mother gave up trying to stop the car and simply covered her face with her hands, screaming all the while.

We hit with a huge bang. As the car turned and twisted, the radio blared, but I was no longer listening. I could only hear the sound of my thoughts, which included, "The worst part was hitting the ground - not the feeling so much as the sound," from _Tonight is the Night I Fell Asleep at the Wheel_ by the Barenaked Ladies.

It was true, I found. The worst part of it was the sound, not the feeling. The radio was still playing, and I could hear it as everything around me faded to black. My last conscious thought before the world faded was, "I wonder if anyone will miss me…"

****

Well, I've been afraid of changing 'cause 

I built my life around you 

But time makes you bolder 

Children get older 

I'm getting older too


	4. Consequences

I groaned as light invaded my half-cracked eyelids. Everything hurt. I swore that my bruises had bruises…certainly felt like it anyway. As I fully opened my eyes, I realized that I must have been hit on the head pretty hard when the car had hit the ground 'cause it looked like I was lying in a summer field.

I sat up as slowly as possible, carefully checking myself for injuries. It seemed that I had escaped from the accident rather unscathed (a few bruises) and that I was alright - if you considered delusional alright.

"Where am I?" I asked myself out loud. Yes, yes, I broke my vow, but it was an emergency for crying out loud!

"You are in the realm of the gods, guardians of MiddleEarth," a voice said. I whipped my head around, mentally slapping myself at the same time (note to self: When injured, **NO FAST MOVEMENTS**,) to try and find the voice. No one was there.

"Guardians of what?" I asked out loud again. Then I shook my head and sighed. "Alexis, you really are going crazy. You're talking to yourself!"

"Guardians of MiddleEarth, Alexis. And you are not alone." There was that voice again. I clapped my hands over my ears when I realized that it sounded like the voice was inside my head.

"Oh God," I thought. "I really am delusional."

"No Alexis," said the voice, "you've merely been placed in a new setting - a new world." A lady appeared in front of my, wearing a long, white dress that sparkled in the light. She had long, blonde hair that was held back by a metal band with a star in the middle. When she bent down to help me stand, I saw that she was wearing a ring on her left and that her ears, uncovered as she bent her head, were pointed.

I gasped. She was an elf. I had read of them before (The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings trilogy by J.R.R. Tolkien held much information about their race) but to see one in the flesh was astounding.

"Yes," she said evenly, "I am an elf. My name is Lady Galadriel, Wife of Celeborn, Lady in White of the LothLorien Wood, Highest Lady of Elf-Kind. But you," she smiled a tight-lipped smile, "may call me Galadriel."

"Galadriel…I don't understand. What am I doing here?"

"I know not, child. The gods who protect MiddleEarth feel you shall play an important part in the events to come."

I gasped. "I don't even know where MiddleEarth is…"

"You shall learn, my child. But coming here is not without consequences."

"Consequences?"

"Your presence shall change MiddleEarth and its destiny. The gods have decided that you shall be hindered in journey."

"Hindered?"

"Yes, but only until you discover your true self."

"My true self?"

"Yes child. Now you must go."

"Go? Go where? Wait, Galadriel, I've still got so much to ask you - "

"You will know, Alexis. You will know."

"I will know what? Wait, Galadriel, please - " I was desperate. She couldn't leave - not now. But before I could do or say anything else, she was gone.

"No! Please, come back! Don't leave me here…not alone, not again! Please!" I felt myself becoming dizzy, and I didn't have the strength to hold myself up any longer. I crumpled, crying out in pain as the hard ground rushed up to meet me bruises.

"Please, Galadriel…please come back. I don't want to be alone…please…" I lay on the ground, sobbing and begging for her to come back for awhile before I drifted off into blackness.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ 

I was trapped…blackness was all around me and there was nowhere to go. Every time I tried to move, a growling noise was made, and I felt a twinge of pain in whatever area of my body (i.e. my arm, my leg, my throat - when I'd tried to call for help, - etc., etc.) that I had tried to move.

The growling was growing louder, and I felt myself trapped under something heavy. It hurt, and I tried to cry out. I found that I could only whimper.

Suddenly, the growling ceased. The heavy thing that was holding me down was gone, and I could move freely, though it hurt to do so. Pain was coursing through my body. I could hear someone or something approaching me, and I cried out in terror. Or, at least, I tried to cry out. The only thing I could do, it seemed, was whimper, no matter how hard I tried.

"Shhh, little one. No one will hurt you now." A comforting voice filled the blackness, and I felt secure in its range.

"What do you thing happened to her?" Another voice filled the blackness, overlapping the first. It was as comforting as the last, and I relished in the comfort that it brought me.

"Wargs, Sam. She was attacked by Wargs." The first voice returned, and I felt myself being lifted. I was wrapped in something soft and warm, and then I knew no more.


	5. Can't think of a title

Frodo dipped a cloth in the pail of cool water Sam had brought him and then laid it on the child's head. She was a young hobbit-lass - certainly younger then Merry, Sam, or he, but perhaps a bit older then Pippin.

Sam came into the room slowly, balancing a new pail of water and some clean cloths in his hands. He set them down on a table next to the bed, and asked, "How is she, Mister Frodo?"

"Better, Sam. Have you sent for Dr. Bracegirdle yet?"

Sam took the old pail from Frodo as he replied. "Aye, I sent Marigold down to fetch her…but is there really anything we can do? Beggin' your pardon, Mister Frodo, but she looks even beyond Dr. Bracegirdle's help now, as accomplished as she is as a healer."

Frodo shook his head. "Don't say that, Sam. She's too young to…" Frodo's voice trailed off.

"Aye, sir," Sam said, nodding. "I shall agree with you there." He picked up the old pail and excited the room, leave Frodo to care for the young child.

Frodo sighed, then continued his task of laying the cooled cloths on the tiny girl's various wounds. The most serious one was the bite that she had taken to the throat. While it was not very deep, it bled profusely, and Frodo was worried that it had damaged something vital inside.

"You _will_ get well, little one," he promised quietly. "I will make sure of it." As expected, there was no response, but Frodo could not help feeling disappointed. There was something special about this child, he could feel it.

"Mister Frodo?" Sam's voice came from the doorway. "Dr. Bracegirdle is here."

Not removing his gaze from the prone figure on the bed, Frodo said, "Let her in, Sam."

Dr. Bracegirdle came bustling into the room. She was a stout hobbit and very knowledgeable in her field. However, she was younger, stricter, and (most scandalously) a female, so she was rarely used by many hobbit families. Most of the hobbit-men were indignant that Dr. Bolger, who had been for so long the only healer the Shire ever had, was slowly loosing his place as head-healer. They boycotted the use of the healer who was daring enough to try and take his place - and a female, no less! However, many of the younger hobbit-children favored her, and their mothers called upon her often.

"Well now, Master Baggins, what seems to be the problem? You don't appear to be ill." Dr. Bracegirdle gave Frodo the once over, frowning.

Frodo laughed slightly. "I'm not, ma'am, although I thank you for your concern. This young one, " he pointed to the bed, "is however."

Dr. Bracegirdle blanched as she neared the bed. "And such a young thing, too," she said softly. She rolled up her sleeves, and removed the pail of water from the table next to the bed. Then she emptied her equipment onto it. Glancing up, she said, "Out with you now. Go on, scat!"

*~*

Frodo was sitting at the table, nervously wringing his hands as Sam made tea. Dr. Bracegirdle was down the hall, tending to the child, and Frodo was continually checking the clock. They had been in there for a long time.

Sam glanced at his master and smiled slightly. Mister Frodo was turnin' into a right-gut hobbit, he reckoned, better then any he knew as of now. Mister Bilbo has raised him well, perhaps better then Ms. Esmerelda could have, no disrespect meant. Mister Bilbo just seemed to…understand Mister Frodo more then anyone.

Sam glanced back at Mister Frodo as he finished preparing the tea. He was constantly checking the clock, and Sam could sense that he was worried about the young lass.

He brought the tea to the table, and said, "Dr. Bracegirdle will fix her right up, Mister Frodo."

Frodo looked up at Sam, hope dimly glowing in his eyes. "Do you really think so, Sam?"

"Aye, I do. An' Dr. Bracegirdle is real good with hobbit-lads and lasses. Marigold never let Dr. Bolger near her."

Frodo smiled slightly, imagining Marigold putting up a fight with The Gaffer and Bell when she was sick. "I'm sure that doesn't settle well with your Gaffer."

"Oh no, not at all. Can't understand it, he says. Rest of his children take to Dr. Bolger real easy-like - why does Marigold have to be difficult, he says."

Frodo's smile grew, and then he glanced at the clock again. The time was ticking by even slower then before. "Sam," he said tentatively. "I've been thinking…"

*~*

Dr. Bracegirdle sighed as she finished applying bandages and salve to the young lass' wounds. She was such a tiny thing - looked like a young bird that had fallen from its nest without knowing how to fly, she thought.

"Why, she barely looks like she's passed the ten summers mark," she said aloud. "An' I ain't never seen her 'round Hobbiton before…"

Sighing, she wiped her hand on a towel, and then she stepped outside to talk to Frodo and Samwise about this mysterious hobbit child.

*~*

Frodo and Sam were sitting at the table idly making conversation when Dr. Bracegirdle stepped from the hall into the kitchen. She smiled for a moment when she heard Frodo laugh softly at something Sam had said, and then she cleared her throat. Startled, both hobbits looked at her. "Is she alright?" Frodo asked anxiously, jumping up.

"Calm down, and sit down, Master Baggins. She shall recover with time and plenty of love. However…"

Sam blanched. When Dr. Bracegirdle said "however" it usually meant that all was not well, and would probably never be well again.

"However, the wound on her throat has caused some…well, it's caused some damage."

Frodo sat heavily in his chair. "Damage?" he echoed.

"Yes, damage. Some of her vocal cords were…well, you could say that they were 'snapped' by the Warg's teeth."

"'Snapped'?" Frodo echoed again. "What does that mean?"

"It means that she may never speak again. Since not all of them were damaged, she will be able to articulate some sounds, but speaking seems to be out of the question."

Frodo sighed. When he thought about how hard it had been to grow up **with** the ability to speak…why, he couldn't imagine growing up **without** it.

"Master Baggins, it seems to me that there is another matter here that we must discuss," Dr. Bracegirdle said, looking stern.

Frodo's heart sank, and he looked at her anxiously. "Yes?" he asked, his voice tight.

"This lass…well, I've never seen her before, and I've seen most of the young lads and lasses around here by this age. Samwise mentioned that you 'found' her being attacked by Wargs. Do you know where she comes from? Is she a runaway?"

Frodo sighed. "Of that we are not exactly sure, Dr. Bracegirdle. I have never seen her before either."

"Then, if I may ask, Master Baggins, what are you planning to do with her? You can not just turn her out once she is healed…she is only a small lass!"

"Oh no, Dr. Bracegirdle, you misunderstand me. I am not planning to turn her out; no, quite the contrary. I am planning on asking her to live here with me, until the time comes when she may live on her own with a family of her own."

Dr. Bracegirdle looked astonished, as did Sam. His master had said he was thinking about offering the child a home, but to make that decision without knowing the nature of the child…well, that just didn't sound like Mister Frodo at all!

Dr. Bracegirdle was the first to recover. "Well then, it seems my worries were unneeded. I can see that this child shall be well cared for. Now, here are some extra bandages - change the dressing on her wounds once a week. Now, I'll be on my way. If you require my services again, just send Marigold down to fetch me." With that, she picked up her bag and sailed out the door.

Sam was still sitting there, gaping at Frodo. He kept opening his mouth as if to say something and then closing again. Finally Frodo reached over and patted his hand.

"I understand your confusion, Sam," he said. "But I feel in my heart that this is the right thing to do. Besides," he laughed, "what would I do with Bag End all to my lonesome? This hobbit-lass will provide me with the companionship I need."

Sam looked hurt, and Frodo hastily added, "That you can not provide. Perhaps she may even learn from you in the skill of tending the gardens." He laughed ruthfully. "Valar knows **I've** never been able too."

Sam smiled. "Aye, that would be right-gut, sir. Now you go tend to her, and I shall put a luncheon together."

Frodo smiled back at him. "You are a wonderful hobbits, Samwise Gamgee. Thank you."

Sam blushed. "Oh Mister Frodo…now go on. Go check on the lass." Frodo smiled one last time and then headed down the hall.


End file.
